Buried Treasure

There is something quite satisfying about paper shredders. The feeding in of all those mounds of junk mail, and old bank statements, and such. Mine also sounds like one of those cash counting gadgets as it is grinding away. Perhaps that is part of it’s attraction…..hum 🤔 No its gotta be the destruction I’m sure.

Well anyway, as I was working towards eliminating all the paper that sneaks in and tries to reside with me if I am not vigilant, I came across some folders of school work from our homeschool days. How fun it has been to read through the poetry, stories, and those paragraphs I had my son write each day.

No I did not shred them. Even though I am guessing that perhaps they wish I would. For as my son would say, “below is a prime example of teenage angst.”

“The world has fallen into a false daydream” Michael thought to himself, as he kicked a tin can down the street. Life had become boring to him. It was like a clock that hung over his head, and all he could do was wait to hear it stop. He laughed, thinking about the people who rushed past him. They had clocks too, everyone did, but all the clocks were out of sync. Some ran faster than others, and some creaked, like they where about to snap. His clock however ran perfectly, not too fast, and not to slow. He chuckled, some people were cherishing their clocks, oiling and polishing them; trying to get a few extra minutes, clinging desperately to anything that would help their clocks to tick that one extra second. Amidst those hurrying to do whatever they could to fix their clocks, where the ones like him. Who would watch and laugh at the ones with fast clocks. The clocks didn’t matter, all of the clocks would eventually break, and why should they worry about the inevitable.

Sigh….would not it have been nice if I hadn’t been rushing around with such a tightly wound clock when this was written; perhaps I would have noticed how depressed he was 😔 Oh well, water under the bridge and all that, or all’s well that ends well is better said I guess. Yikes! Starting to babble.

❤️ In Christ, now and evermore, Belinda



5 thoughts on “Buried Treasure

  1. Ah, yes, paper shredders. I gave mine away years ago and now have to cut documents by hand, a slow and tedious process for dreary winter days. I’m glad to hear you didn’t shred your son’s essay. It’s so creative,with profound insights about life and “time.”

    Liked by 1 person

    • The few scraps and bits of my children’s writing that I have managed to wrestle away from them before they threw them away are treasures. For my son is now pursuing stability and security and has not written frivolously since he was maybe 13 or 14. So I am hoping that someday when he reaches that elusive place of enough, he will write me a story or two from all the bits he started.

      Liked by 1 person

    • At thirteen he was still a dreamer and wrote without restraint. Unfortunately, now at nineteen, the inhibitions and the desire to make money have kicked into high gear, so I am being patient, knowing that words have a way of knocking relentlessly on the walls of your brain until you eventually give in and let them out.


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